Friya was deep in thought, seeming entirely unaware of the various chemicals and poking tools that the gnome was using on her upper body wounds. That thing had been a creature of the Void, not a doubt to be had, but what kind? How had it breached the veil of the Aethyr and come into the Material Realm!? "I barely utilized any magick at all, an' I was careful." Friya muttered, more loudly than she intended, "How by all the damned Gods did whatever t'at beast was, slip through? It nary make a like of sense."

      Tuli considered for many a moment how to address those comments, engrossed in her work, thankfully her anxiety about the entire situation was, for the moment, on the mental backburner. She was fully engrossed in being an absolute professional in this moment. But she couldn't find words directly, she even still she couldn't outright spill what she knew or how she knew it, that was to dangerous. After all, this magister was traveling with an Ascended be damned Templar! Of all the tricks of the gods, this was a rude one. However Tuli did find her voice, speaking softly. "I need you to relax that shoulder just a little, if I stitch you up whilst your flexing and tense, it will hurt a hell of a lot more than it needs to Lady Geomancer."

      Friya was drawn out of her own thoughts some with that, letting out a hearty and warm laugh, surprisingly softer, less rough and rock like than Tuli would have expected. "Ye 'ave a soft hand, wee one, I nary felt any o' the cleaning. I don't think we need ta worry bout the sutures hurtin'. Aye an' 'Lady Geomancer' that's a first. I'm used ta being referred ta by 'Geomancer' as a title o'.....respect, at least I choose ta believe. But a lady? Beneath me tunic and breeches only, lass. Ye might be first person in 'orth o' a decade ta refer ta me as 'Lady' anythin'."

      Tuli felt her cheeks and ears flush a little, but repressed those emotions, focusing ever more on the medicine. "How should I refer to you then?" she inquired, working the needle and specialized thread with nimble skill and dexterity.

      "Friya Ostamore be the name me ma gave me, bout all o' worth she ever did for me. Tis as good a name as any. Miss Ostamore, if ye insist on somethin' a bit more formal." Friya winced slightly on the last few stitches, shifting a little where she was kneeled. "There tis, that shoulder stings a little bit now, but I'm sure it'll pass."

      Tuli tied off the stitching neatly, moving to Friya's other side to begin work on her forearm wound on her right. "That was your deepest, and most vicious wound, so far as I could tell. Thankfully, it seemed quite clean." Tuli didn't even realize, she was deep in her work now, but the words slipped out. "So, as a magister, do you have any ideas how a Voidling ended up here? That was terrifying, like something out of a ghost story. I mean the goblins clearly didn't summon it, right?"

      Friya shook her head emphatically. "I was too close ta the whole thing, nae any chance some damned greenskin sad-sack excuse o' a shaman executed a Void summonin' ritual that close ta me an' I nae felt a thing. None o' me own magick acted up or got out o' hand either. Which means it 'ad ta be somethin' else."

      Tuli replied, now truly without thinking, and nearly froze up mid stitching as she realized the words that came out of her mouth. "Could the goblins have had Voidstone?' Swiftly, trying to cover her own tracks, Tuli added "I remember it is very unstable, we covered the complexities of dealing with a patient whom was exposed to such a thing in some of my more advanced classes." swiftly trying to explain away her initial slip of knowledge that she knew, deep in the pit of her stomach, would likely prove all to correct once Friya inevitably went and inspected the remains of the horse corpse.

      Friya turned her head slightly, giving this gnome a proper look now, really taking in the individual before her. It wasn't that the idea was a bad one, in fact, far from that. Other than the lack of any reason to suspect a substance so rare and heinous, no rumor, whispers, or hint of the stuff anywhere in the Fir-Jeim Valley until now, it fit perfectly. However the stuff was notably rare, unstable and very dangerous, as well as not heavily studied, and certainly not heavily published about in openly available academic sources for most any of the general public. Friya had naturally read her fair share about it, it was a necessary thing for a Magister, as it was a potent, powerful and dangerous magickal chemical from beyond that was known to be used by some cults, shamans, and even apostates. Templars would also receive a little education on the stuff, mostly to avoid it like the plague and destroy it wherever possible. It was within reason that perhaps some more advanced medical classes in an institute as esteemed as Karstic's could touch upon the subject. Such was possible of course, though Friya wasn't sure she believed that excuse. Either way, however, she could not dismiss the idea of Voidstone. If it was in powder form, and had been bound to the arrow-heads...it would fit. She sat silent the rest of the time Tuli worked on her, focused now on her next task at hand once the gnome was done patching her up. To investigate the remains of the horse, and the arrows that had killed it, if those were still present.

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      Fenna got everyone moving quick enough, no one was going to argue with a Templar in the aftermath of this mess. Gareth, the driver of the second wagon, wouldn't gather up behind the first wagon, however this was because he instead moved to the second wagon to start trying to jury rig some sort of equipment they could use to allow the remaining horses to pull the trees off the road. It would take a couple hours of work, but was a necessary evil, they couldn't just leave the road blocked. Fenna surveyed the scene, the aftermath of it all, trying to get a clearer picture of events, as she moved to the dead man leaned up against the wagon. Mikael, that was his name, and old Theodore was standing over the younger man, a bit of sorrow visible on the old driver's face, despite his best efforts to hide it. "I tried ta warn 'im nae jump off out in the open, but I think he panicked." Theodore stated, gruffly, something akin to guilt in his voice. "By the time I got the words out, he'd already leapt off and taken both them shafts."

      Fenna knelt beside the corpse, and closed its eyelids, whispering the Prayer of the Long March, the prayer of sending for the dead amongst the Kartheartian faithful. She noted the placement of the shafts, the first likely having dropped a lung based on its placement, the second having hit him as he was falling and come into his throat from an angle, tearing through his jugular and carotid both. He'd likely blacked out from blood loss in seconds and died not very long after. A small mercy, but a mercy. Once she'd gone about the proper protocols for the dead, Fenna gripped one of the shafts, and began trying to wriggle it loose. She was pretty sure no one else among the living had caught a shaft, however it was still worth knowing whether the greenskins had been using poisoned weapons. The shaft was quite deep in the torso, and it took some effort, a bit of the back and forth trying to wiggle it free, but eventually she managed to pull it loose.

      Immediately upon doing so, Fenna's nose was hit with the smell of corruption, this dark, burned iron smell of blood tainted with something truly foul. The blood on the arrowhead was charred, blackened, and yet dripped like a corroding ooze, hissing and steaming as it hit the earth. She dropped the arrow, watching the dirt blacken and crackle with some sort of color that she couldn't name or describe. Falling into her fervor and faith, she focused, honing her senses, whispering a litany, seeking Sir Kartheart's guidance. She began to feel, to sense beyond mortal means, almost like an orchestra of pulses and rhythms, but that she felt, not physically, but more against her very essence and ego, everything around her pressing against it, the interactions leaving different sensations and impressions. Most she could filter out and ignore, for most meant nothing, they were normal, they felt normal, they felt as if they belonged. However that arrow, the body of Mikael, the remains of the horse that were left, they all felt wrong. Whenever she looked upon them, their presence felt like nails scraping against stone upon her essence. Like shards of glass, stabbing and cutting at her with no discernable tempo, pattern or rhythm at all. With every jab, every prod, sudden visions of chaos, madness, the brief sound of whispering voices, as if just beyond her out of sight, would flood her mind.

      "By the damned tusks." she swore, a curse that some might call a minor blasphemy, though she spoke the words fearlessly, and almost as a prayer. "How, by all t'e eight realms o' nightmare and despair, did a handful o' bastard goblins end up wit' Void-Dust ta put on their arrow heads!" She glanced around for a moment, but she'd been left alone, Theodore having moved off to help Gareth. Already the drivers had the three remaining horses grouped up, and were working to get them set up and rigged up in the makeshift harness and ropes they'd managed to come up with to haul the first felled tree off the road behind the wagons. Fenna moved around the front of the wagon, climbing up and taking a seat, glancing over to where Friya was just getting finishing up, putting her greaves back on, fastening the necessary straps. Tuli, she glanced over, seeing that Fenna was seated, and nodded her head, turning to carefully pack up her bag. Fenna sighed, irritated at the gnome's insistence, but she undid the latches and straps for the plates around her lower leg, carefully extricating her leg from her armor, and pulling up the leg on the padded leggings she wore underneath. She huffed when she saw the 'wound'. It was still slowly oozing blood, so it was deep, but it was a simple small tip stab wound. It didn't hurt, there was no reason to worry about it. Fenna looked up and was pleased to see that Friya, like herself, wasn't going to just let things go without investigating further, moving to inspect what remained of the dead horse. Once this silly exercise in excessive medicinal care was done, the pair could compare their findings.

      As Tulint got closer however, Fenna buried her annoyance as best she could, putting on a gruff, but kind, demeanor as best she could. After all this gnomish doctor, this chemist, was just doing what she perceived to be her job and trying to look out for the health of those she could still help. Tulint came up, having to use the lower rung of the front axle to step up, and step from that, with a stretch, onto the driver's bench. Carefully laying her medical bag on the floor to one side, she opened it, and had a good look at Tulint's leg. "Hhmmm, yes it seems a smaller wound which is good." the gnome stated happily. "Deep mind, very lucky it isn't a little to the right or left, it might have hit a tendon then. But as it is, this should only need a good cleaning and a proper dressing."

      Fenna was expecting some sort of burning or stinging sensation from the cleaning, but instead felt naught more than a little bit of heat. The dwarf sighed, and grinned as she spoke. "A light 'and ye got there, I barely feels it! I expected at least a wee bit o' stingin' from the cleanin'. I'm impressed, yer quite skilled."

      Tulint flashed a soft smile back. "Well I thank you, Lancer Fenna. Now I'm going to wrap this using club-root paste and a woven bloodgrass bandage. This'll let it breath and means it should heal a bit better, stay a bit drier and be overall more comfortable to wear even under your armor. You'll likely only need to change it once, in three days. After six days you shouldn't need a bandage anymore, it should be well on its way to scarring instead of scabbing, so chafing of the armor will no longer be a concern. I've a couple extra bandages and can give you a little tin of the paste, though I presume you do not have a way to carry them at the moment, given well." Tuli gestured widely to the scenes around them. "So do you wish me to hold on to these for the moment, and give them too you once we get sorted and on the move again?"

      Fenna shook her head, a mischievous twinkle in her eye "Ach, nae lass, me bags are never that far away." she told Tuli, before putting both pinkies in her mouth and letting out a squealing whistle like sound that could only be described as utterly horrifying and offensive to the ears. However, Wvota, whom by this point had wandered to the edge of the woods, feeding on some of the last bits of green undergrowth she could find, snorted and huffed, but pivoted and began trotting over to the pair of them and the wagon. Fenna was already starting to roll down her leggings and had three or four bits of her armor she'd removed laid out and was in the process of carefully putting it all back on and firmly in place. Tuli watched the massive beast nervously as it trotted up, even as Fenna nodded towards the boar. "Saddlebags, Tuli dear if'n ye nae mind. Side facin' us is fine, third pouch back from Wvota's face, t'e 'un with the two clasps. Just put the bandages an' tin in there for me, if'n ye nae mind?"

      Tuli visibly gulped, but not really sure what else to do, carefully climbed down to do as she was asked. She approached the creature carefully, trying to keep it calm, speaking softly, though nothing of substance, just nervously repeating things like "your okay" and "Good boar" over and over again. Hands shaking a little, she managed to get the pouch open, tucking the bandages in first and then the tin very carefully, before flipping the flap back down and doing up the clasps. As she finished she began to let out a sigh of relief, but as she did so, Wvota let out a single note squeal, pawing the ground and shifting her weight nimbly, as if pivoting. Tuli shrieked, leaping back only to fall onto the dusty road. She heard the boar letting out repeated snorts and her tusks clattering, as she pawed and snorted the ground seemingly.....amused? Then she heard the sound of Fenna's own laughter, as the dwarf offered her a hand. 

      "I hope ye can forgive Wvota, she's a bit of a practical joker an' 'as no sense o' timin'. She's harmless, ta us anyway. Ye need nae worry about her. She can be ferocious but in truth she's just a big ol' sassy piglet, only really grew up physically." Tuli accepted the hand graciously, and began dusting herself off, clearly irritated. Fenna spoke again, friendly still, but her tone had something in it that had Tulint pausing, not sure how to answer the dwarf. A bit of an inquisitive edge, a little bit of steel behind the friendly, jovial northerner scrawl and accent. "Aye nae, lassie, I thank ye. Say ye was traveling in t'at front wagon. Ye seem ta know Theodore, and ye knew Mikael too it seemed. Ye wouldn't happen ta know anything about the 'cargo' that's so important nae would ye?"

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      Friya sighed, stretching her leg and massaging it through the doeskin leggings she wore before going about getting her greaves back on over top the padded garment. "Ye 'ave me thanks Tulint." she told the gnome, whom was carefully packing her bag after gesturing to Fenna to let her know she would be over momentarily. "I assume I'll need ta change the bandages on 'em every day or two."

      Tuli nodded, confirming Friya's assumption. "Yes, daily would be best, but two days is acceptable. In a week, or more likely two, the sutures will be able to come out. Hopefully you do not find yourself in any such similar situations in that time, elsewise you'd likely split the stitches and be right back where we started." With that the gnome moved off with purpose in her stride towards Fenna.

      Friya locked eyes with her friend as she strode by the first wagon towards the remains of the horse, noting the expression Fenna flashed her. Clearly the pair had something to discuss, Fenna had stumbled upon something worth noting. Friya knelt down beside the lower half of the dead horse's torso, noting the massive bloodstain, burned and blackened around the edges, all around the creature. The sheer volume of blood, combined with behavior of the entity that had attacked them finally pulled forth some information from Friya's memories and education about the dangers from beyond. "Horse-head Horror, just a simple slaughter hungry basic spirit, one of the weakest out of The Great Slaughter's realm. Wrathful, vengeful, hateful of all living things, but not really intelligent, and not very stable." she noted. "Utilizes dead bodies, hence it adapting the name based on what creature's body it split apart to make its own. We were quite lucky nothing more powerful got to that sudden fracture in reality first."

      This however, did remind her of the most important question. How did that fracture occur in the first place. Blinking she let her eyes shift more fully to viewing things through the lens of the Aethyr, trying to get an idea what could have happened. The flows of the manna, the currents all around her lit up the world in beautiful gem like iridescent shades, the colors that gave the eight flows of magick their names. There was a notably higher presence of Amethyst energy, of Lobhadh, however that was not without precedent, given the number of dead bodies in the area, and even now it was beginning to decay and shift, the pockets of that energy splitting apart, fading out only to thrum alive once more, the natural cycle of such energy. Entropy was the manna of renewal after all, and such energies were beyond the idea of birth or death, these raw energies simply cycled and changed, the clash of creative primal forces. However as she looked down at the corpse and blood-stain, her eyes ached, for her Aethyr Sight could not process the strange emptiness here. No color, no gem like iridescence or illumination, it was simply empty. There was no color based description for it, it was simply an empty, energy-less space. Manna was even now licking its edges thankfully, and penetrating back in slowly, however it was just...devoid of all energy of any natural kind. Yet something sinister hid amongst that emptiness, two small blips of.....it was not color. Or no color's describable by mortal eyes. It was two small dots of some sort of storming madness, barely a flicker, barely visible, but they were potent, causing great discord in the balance of the space. They made Friya's head ache. As she turned her gaze to the remains of the horse's bottom half, that taint, though far less powerful now and fading by the second, was present to her senses, in its flesh, bones, and the blood all about the ground. The more she inspected it, the more she could sense it.

      Friya closed her eyes, forcing and suppressing her Aethyr sight, inspecting the scene again with plain eyes, and identified immediately the cause of the two small glimmers of storming madness she'd seen, picking one up extremely carefully, keeping her hand back from the head of the arrows. She dare not touch the substance, but the blackened blood combined the unidentifiable storming madness she'd seen confirmed it. The magister shuddered even as she whispered her findings to herself. "Void-Dust, the damned goblins have somehow gotten their hands and claws into Void-Dust." Friya carefully put the arrow back with the remains of the horse, shaking her head in disbelief. Goblins were not smart creatures, and certainly were not well studied in occult or arcane arts, most any shaman of their kind simply wielding crude blood magicks of a sort. They were adamant followers of the Great Slaughter after all, and Iracundia, to give the fell entity its proper name, despised the arcane arts with a passion unrivaled. It explained why the Horror had gone after her with such ferocity. This merely raised far more questions then answers for Friya, for none of it made any sense. "How the hells did they get their hands on such a foul and rare substance?" she muttered to herself, shaking her head. 

      However, the magister rose from her inspection, turning her attention to the task at hand. The first tree had been dragged from the road, with the drivers and little Fredwick getting ready to bring the remaining horses forward now to get the one in front of the two wagons out of their path. She called out, "Halt for a moment's time. Feed and water the horses, keep them back a little. We need to dispose of some of this." she ordered, putting on her best 'official' magisterium tone, even annunciating her words more fully and formally, fighting through her own accent.

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      Fredwick moved quickly to join Gareth, Tiny and Theodore, noting the elder driver's pain in his eyes, even as the man buried them in the need to work. "C'mon ye three, halfman nae more free rides me friend. We need the extra hands nae." Normally Fredwick would do everything in his power to avoid anything resembling an honest hour's work, much less an honest day. However he knew this moment was perhaps not the time for such antics, so instead simply nodded, clamming up his usual sharpened sarcastic wit. They'd all just been through something rather harrowing and there was no guarantee it was over. Fredwick had an idea what Theodore and Gareth were thinking. They needed to clear the trees and get moving, after all the goblins that had fled were only a few of their number, but there was no guarantee they wouldn't bring further numbers back. It would be better if the group and wagons were well and truly on the move and gone before the beasts returned, if they were going to.

      Gareth and Theodore quickly went into the back wagon, moving to various boxes and crates, taking out a variety of goods, tools and items. Ropes, some simple pulley parts that were likely on order for one of the lumber yards in Spruce Point, and some various bits of tack and harnesses for beasts of burden like oxen or the like. Theodore turned to Tiny and Fredwick, gesturing to the pulley parts and the ropes. "Get those lines looped securely 'round that tree, all o' em running the same way and secured ta the sturdiest standing spruce or fir trees ye can find, hooked through pulley wheels fer load transference, make it easier on 'em that's pulling. Me and Gareth gonna get the horses ready fer this, and bring 'em over."

      Fredwick couldn't help but sigh, but shot Gareth a wink as he did, picking up one of the coiled ropes. The thing was damn heavy, it was all the halfman could do to carry it with both arms, it must have been a couple hundred feet long, double thick and sturdy, likely both woven fibers and some sort of toughened animal sinew. Thankfully Tiny was a lot stronger than Fredwick and was able to sling the other two coiled lines, one over each shoulder, wearing them like ridiculous pauldrons, with the various winch wheels, connectors and pulley parts in a crate which he just carried over his head, keeping his arms high to keep the ropes from slipping off his shoulders. Fredwick once they got over to the tree, kind of stood waiting, and looked at Tiny once he arrived, as the Tantur put down the crate and ropes. "I've never done anything like this before." Fredwick sheepishly admitted. "So uhm what do we do first?"

      Tiny let out a gravelly chuckle. "I'm not surprised, you sing and play music well, but you entertain for your meals 'cause it be easier on the body and muscles, even if it is riskier. Do not worry, my little friend, just do what I tell you, I'll handle the majority of this." With that the pair got to work, the Tantur doing most of the heavy work, looping the heavy duty ropes over the tree, snapping branches and letting the pine scrape at him as he forced the ropes to bit to its trunk. He had Fredwick crawling underneath however, to guide the ropes whenever they had to loop underneath as well, since the Tantur wanted triple wraps at minimum to insure the tree was solidly connected and wouldn't slip loose of the ropes when the horses started pulling. Once that was done, both of them covered in bits of bark and needles, Tiny passed Fredwick one of the three lines. "This needs to be straight, no tangles, we need to walk it back into the woods until we find suitable tree to loop around for leverage. Follow me with the line."

      Fredwick did as he was bid, and soon enough the pair had moved all three lines back into the woods, finding three trees not to far off set from each other of appropriate size that Tiny was satisfied with. He swiftly tapped a solid spike into each one, then another, securing a pulley apparatus to them all, feeding the lines through them appropriately. The halfman watched, fascinated, and inquired "What's the purpose of these, how are they helping?" Tiny chuckled, and explained briefly, much to Fredwick's interest, the purpose, how these would lessen the direct strain on the animals, bearing some of the load, and lessen the difficulty of the drag of the ropes as well, being smoother than the actual tree-trunks.

      Once that was done, they ran the lines back out alongside the tree, a few feet to the left of it. Gareth and Theodore were already there, the horses calmed down notably, though still snorting and pawing a little nervously, clearly still energized and on edge. The drivers took the lines one at a time, connecting them to a harness of sorts through some clasps and hooks meant to help disperse the weight and force exerted upon the animal across its whole torso and capable shoulder muscles instead of just its neck or back. That done, they waved Tiny and Fredwick back a few feet. "Catch yer breath, this'll take the beasts a few moments, then ye'll need ta unhook it all, take it ta the other tree an' we'll do it all again." Gareth told them. 

      The pair of drivers worked in unison, one working the shared lead rope, connected to the bits and guide ropes of all three animals, almost like a lead dog, pulling and exerting and grunting in front of the animals, not pulling on them, but putting on that show of acting to encourage the animals, as if leading them in the effort. The other gave commands, worked the harnesses and ropes, ensuring everything remained stable and everything was done at a proper pace, so the horses wouldn't wear out. There were a lot of starts and stops, for such a task couldn't be done as one pull, or the animals would have nothing left to give later. It took near half an hour of steady start and stop, but eventually, they got the tree off the road, its trunk just past the edge. "That'll do!" Gareth yelled out and Theodore, on the front lead, immediately set about calming the animals, lessening tension on the lead, stopping his grunts and encouraging words, moving up to them and pulling a hunk of apple from his vest for each of them to munch on. "Alright!" yelled Gareth, "lets get em unhooked, an' get that next one set up and ready ta go!"

      The process repeated over the next hour, and by mid afternoon the road was clear, and thankfully there had been no further sign of the goblins. Fredwick knew better than to ask why the boar hadn't helped of course, but it was amusing to him that she hadn't. The beast was big and noticeably powerful, but given it was the mount of a Templar, Gareth, Tiny, and Theodore likely had just thought better of asking. As the second tree was removed fully, and the ropes and pulley parts packed back up and returned to where they belonged, Fredwick wandered by the the dwarven knight and her mage companion. The halfman paused immediately, his attention caught by what he overheard. "Aye Void-dust, I'm sure of it" Fenna stated.

      "Aye but how and where did they get it?" Friya, asked, the magister obviously confused and frustrated. Fredwick tilted his head, listening for a few moments longer for they hadn't noticed him. They went back and forth, but seemed to come to no solid conclusion, though both agreed the whole situation was suspicious. Fredwick noted another figure, tucked behind the front wagon, listening to the pair as well. Tuli, the gnome, and she looked deeply concerned. She looked like she knew something, and like she had a guilty conscience.

       Changing his plans, Fredwick scurried back to Gareth and Tiny, briefly excusing himself, and as the group was ready to take to the road again, he climbed aboard the back of the front wagon, enjoying greatly the shocked look on Tuli's face. "You look like you could use some company." he told her with a disarming smile.

       As the wagons got moving again, he made some conversation, trying to get her to warm up to him, and was at least somewhat successful. About a half hour after they got moving, he had even gotten her to smile and let out a giggle or two, telling jokes and silly tall tales, and she was engaging with him, having dialogue back and forth. Fredwick moved to sit a little closer to her then and spoke in lower tone, but keeping his happy demeanor, speaking fluent gnomish. "I couldn't help but notice your reaction when you overheard what our kind escorts were talking about. I must say I've seen less guilty faces on men about to hang for murder. But I've also seen less fear in children terrified from a well told ghost story. Are you in trouble miss Tuli? Are you in need of help? Do you know something about what just happened us? You need not answer aloud, you can simply nod yes or shake your head no."

      Tulint didn't know why, or how but she cracked. Not verbally, thank the Ascended, but looking into Fredwick's friendly face, his soft and happy eyes, his smile, the infectiousness of his humor and overall cheery demeanor, she just...cracked. She nodded yes three times, insuring she paused emphatically between each motion so he could not confuse the issue. Fredwick tilted his head, keeping his cheery demeanor as best he could, however her desire to answer but her fear to vocalize spoke volumes. "Is it connected to this mysterious important cargo that supposedly is on this wagon? Are you the cargo? If not, do you know where and what it is?" As Fredwick asked these questions, he took in the contents of the wagon in detail, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Two skids of stone block, another of brick, the lockbox of coin, and some general goods and supplies. Nothing screamed contraband or even remotely suspicious that he could see, and he usually had a pretty good eye for such things.

      Tuli, again she didn't really know why. He seemed trustworthy and perhaps the fear and terror from the experience, the goblins, the creature from beyond, perhaps she just finally couldn't do it anymore. But whatever the reason, now that she'd cracked, tears in her eyes, she nodded, then shook her head, and then nodded once more. She couldn't know how much Theodore knew. She had no way to know if he was one of the Vorgi's men, and didn't know how to communicate that fear to the halfman in that moment.

      However Fredwick was a performer, and part of that profession was learning how to read a room. He put those skills to excellent use now, putting two and two together in regards to Tuli's lack of willingness to be verbal. Putting his hand on her knee comfortingly, he spoke softly to her, "Shhh, shhh dry those tears, everything will be okay. When we get to town, you and me shall walk off this wagon together and make like we intend to get a room at a local inn. We'll find the other two, and you can tell them everything. Whatever it is, I'm sure they can help. A templar and a magister, they may as well be an authority unto themselves! So dry those eyes, and smile like your smitten with me, may as well practice. We don't want old Theodore there to have any reason to doubt your intentions for the night."